Break
by Lady Anarchy
Summary: Trunks and Pan have reached a point in their short marriage where all they do is argue and work. She's being stubborn, he's playing therapist, and their sex life has gone to the dogs. So what's the only logical answer? Take a break...
1. Day 1: I Need A Break

Rated M for mature subjects, language, and sexual situations.

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1. Day 1: I Need a Break  
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You want a _what_?A break. He said it so calmly she wanted to scream and beat him until he begged for mercy. Unfortunately, she was too shocked to do anything but gape at him.

A break? Trunks, this is a fucking marriage, not a six month relationship. You can't just _take a break_.That's what I want, Pan, he said firmly, crossing his arms and staring down at her. Though Trunks easily towered over his wife, her icy glare was enough to make him feel like a bug. You and I both know this isn't working. I don't want a divorce, Pan. I love you, you know that. But we both need some time to straighten things out. All we do is work, and when we're not working, we're fighting. Do you remember when all we used to do was work and have sex?

Oh, she remembered. But right now she was ready for another argument. So what, they argued. Big deal. Every married couple argued.

Yes, Trunks, my memory's fine. But what has our sex life got to do with anything? So what, we argue a bit and don't have sex as much as_--_

He gave a snort of laughter that cut her off. _As much_? Christ, Pan, we don't have _any_ sex! We put all of our energy into fighting with each other. And sex has got everything to do with it, so stop acting like it doesn't. This marriage is going to fall apart if we don't settle things. It's necessary, Pan, you know it.No, I don't know it. Why can't we settle things now, right here?

Trunks arched an eyebrow. This is our bedroom, Pan. This is the last place we should be arguing.Well, _you're_ the one who wanted to talk here!For God's sake, Pan, stop acting like a child! He yelled, rolling his eyes and throwing his arms up in exasperation. I'm not asking for a divorce, I'm just asking for a bit of time. A month, two at the most, and then we'll get back together and see what happens.

_Yeah, and _then_ you'll ask for a divorce_, Pan thought as she pouted up at him. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the next round.

We don't need a break, Trunks. I_--_Stop being so stubborn, Pan! You know we need some time apart, so will you just swallow you're pride. He was yelling again, staring at her like she was a child who had done something immature.

Pan hated it when he looked at her like that. She wasn't a child, for God's sake, she was his wife of four years.

She exploded, throwing her arms up in defeat. Fine, we'll take a fucking break, if that's what you want. She whirled away from him and nausea bubbled in her throat. But she bared down and swallowed hard as she turned to face him again. And what exactly do you plan to do for the next two months?

Trunks was looking calmer now, she noted, satisfied that he had swayed the opposing party and closed another deal. It made her sick. I don't _plan_ to do anything, that's the point. We're both just going to relax and stay out of each other's way.No dating?

Trunks sighed. Like I told you, Pan, this isn't a divorce. No dating, sex, flirting, or anything else intimate you can think of. It's just some time away, like a vacation.

A vacation. Well, it was easier to look at it like that. Sort of.

It's not really a vacation if we don't go anywhere. We both have work. Who stay's in the house? she asked, forcing herself to be calm and rational. It was hard to be both at the same time. Pan tended to lean toward irrational and hectic.

You stay, he said immediately, as though he had been planning this whole conversation. He probably had, she thought. That would be so like him.

I'm going back to Mom and Dad's place. They've got plenty of room for me. They already know I'm coming, so I'll just pack up a few_--_They what? You told them about this? It was the closest Pan could come to a screech. Even Trunks raised his eyebrows in surprise.

No, Pan, Jesus. I just told them you were taking a vacation and I was having some work done on the house, Trunks told her calmly.

Work on the house? And they believed you! Trunks, this house is less than five years old and it's got everything you could possibly think of. What the hell is left to do to it? Pan couldn't believe it, there was no way Bulma was that naive.

But Trunks simply shrugged it off. Mom didn't question it. It's fine, Pan, they won't know we've hit a rut in our marriage and in month or so I'll come back and we'll see what happens. He gave a dismissive shrug and turned away from her.

Pan watched as he stepped into the bedroom-sized space that served as their closet. Pan knew there were outfits in there that Trunks had bought her and she had refused to wear. Like that one black dress that could barely be considered a dress. Christ, he had bought her some lingerie that had more material than that dress had (though the lingerie wasn't as opaque as the dress).

Despite her mood, Pan smiled. Trunks was always buying her things she didn't need, for no reason at all.

What're you smiling at? he asked.

The smile fell from her lips as she focused on her husband, who was standing in the doorway of their closet, a navy blazer in his hand.

God, she loved him.

Pan replied sharply, and left the room.

_. . .to be continued.  
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_Calm down, people. It's only going to be 4 chapters, I'm bound to finish it. Unless. . .No, I'm kidding. I'll finish it. Seriously._


	2. Week 2: I Miss You

Rated M for mature subjects, language, and sexual situations.**  
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2. Week 2: I Miss You**

This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.

She never should have agreed to it. What kind of idiot suggests that he and his wife take a __? He was a moron, an absolute moron with no common sense and an ego the size of Russia.

And she missed him so much it hurt.

Dropping her fork next the plate of take-out, Pan huffed out a tired breath as she stared at the empty space opposite her. Her husband should have been sitting there, talking politics or sports, or work, or just smiling at her as they ate in silence. And she should have been listening, but not really caring about anything he spoke of.

They didn't argue all the time, he was over exaggerating. They could always get through dinner without snapping at each other, but it never lasted through the evening activities such as television or a workout in the gym. Either of them would find a flaw in the other's day and exploit it, or an argument would arise out of something as simple as why Trunks had bought her something new_--_again_--_or why Pan kept leaving clothes strewn across the bedroom floor.

Trunks had never had a problem when it was him who had thrown her clothes across the bedroom floor in an effort to get her naked. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but the thought of making love with Trunks only made Pan sink deeper into her misery.

He had been right, of course. The bastard was always right. Their sex life had been flushed down the toilet by some unnamed force. A quarter of her closet space was dedicated to the lingerie Trunks had bought her, or she had bought in an effort to surprise him. It had always worked, of course, as their physical attraction to each other was undeniable. Pan had lost count of how many expensive sets of bras and panties Trunks had torn in their time spent heating the sheets.

They had tried just about everything, a bit of bondage here, some dirty suggestions murmured in each others ears at the supermarket. Not to mention the naughty phone sex they had embarked on when Trunks had to travel.

Maybe that was it, Pan thought as she leaned back in her chair, hugging her arms as the sun began to set at her back. Maybe they had run out of ideas, maybe sex had just gotten boring.

She closed her eyes. No, that wasn't it. Sex could never get boring, even if you had fallen out of love. But Trunks had said he still loved her, and Pan knew that she loved him. That wasn't it, she was sure. So why was she questioning her feelings for her husband?

Pan opened her eyes and stared down at her lap. The plain gold wedding band and the matching diamond stud winked up at her. They were symbols of love and devotion, that was what marriage was about. Trunks was still devoted to her, Pan knew, and she was faithful to him. But why did it seem like their love had faded?

It wasn't that they didn't love each other anymore. It had simply faded, like an article of sun-bleached clothing; it still existed, it just wasn't as potent.

Pan just didn't know what had caused the fade out.

They were young and in love, what more did you need to have a healthy marriage? After all, everything had been fine for the first few years. And then a rift had started to form.

Pan fidgeted in her seat, annoyed that she couldn't put her finger on the catalyst. Their personalities hadn't always meshed, after all, he was quite a bit older than she was and had a habit of calling her immature.

Pan sniffed. She was _not_ immature. Trunks was just a registered tight-ass most of the time. Sure, he knew how to throw a damn good party, but he only wanted to have a good time when it suited his needs. Pan was always in the mood for a good time.

Liking to have a good time didn't make you immature, did it?

Pan sighed, resting her elbows on the table and rubbing her temples in an attempt to ward off the headache that was stirring behind her eyebrows.

Fuck it, she muttered and scraped back her chair. Her barely touched take-out was dumped unceremoniously in the trash as Pan went to lock herself in the bedroom. She wouldn't think about the situation, or _him_, for the rest of the night.

Then, halfway up the stairs, Pan was bombarded with thoughts of what went on in their bedroom; breathless moans and whispers, their naked bodies damp with sweat.

Pan closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way her stomach dipped at the thought. Touching a hand lightly to her midriff, Pan turned back towards the living room and the empty house.

_---_

Trunks had gone almost a full 2 weeks without thinking about his wife. Well, thinking about her sexually, anyway. Now, as he stood under the pulsing spray of the shower, steam billowing around him, he was reminded of when they had been dating and he had taken her in this same shower.

That had been what, 8, 9 years ago? He had just been easing into his position as head of Capsule Corporation and Pan had been fresh out of high school. It had been a particularly hard day at the office and Pan had joined him in the shower after they had had a spat right in front of his parents. She hadn't been shaken, however, and had massaged the tension from his shoulders under the same spray of water he was currently under. Alone.

He remembered the way those nimble fingers had eased the rippling tension from his back and shoulders. He remembered the way her naked breasts had pressed wet and soft against his back. And most of all, Trunks remembered her quiet moans as he took her against the shower wall and she begged him faster, harder, and deeper.

Nothing much had changed about Pan since then. She worked a steady job now, managing a local gym and teaching fitness classes. She wasn't a girl any longer, but an immature woman, if that made sense. She certainly didn't possess the body of a girl anymore. Her curves were small but defined, her eyes sharp and mature when she spat childishly at him, and her movements smooth and feminine when they were in bed together.

Trunks bit his lower lip as the familiar arousal spread through him. He switched the water down several degrees and felt his skin pimple with goose-flesh.

He hadn't wanted her this desperately in months. Whenever she was around him she struck a nerve that only made him want to argue with her. The childish stubbornness that she brought into their arguments only fueled his anger. So why did thinking about her hissing at him and calling him names turn him on?

Trunks had wanted this time away so he wouldn't _have_ to think about Pan. Now he found himself thinking about her more than he did when he knew he was coming home to her. It was strange, but some part of him had grown accustom to her snide remarks and unorganized living habits.

He hated Pan as much as he loved her, and that was a deadly combination.

Trunks may have wanted her right then, but that still didn't explain why he hadn't found himself pining for her in the last few months. Maybe it was the whole marriage thing. He had told himself that they wouldn't end up as most married couples did: Having no sexual relations and becoming more like friends than husband and wife.

When they had dated there had been spans of time where they hadn't seen each other, and that made the passion all the more intense when they finally came together. So maybe that was it, he had come to take Pan for granted since he was always coming home to her now that they were married. But that usually happened slowly, didn't it? Things had just come to an abrupt halt all of a sudden. There had been no warning and suddenly all they wanted to do was argue with each other when they got home.

Except for dinner, they had never argued over dinner.

Trunks rubbed a hand over the day's stubble on his jaw and then shifted his weight under the spray, pressing both hands against the slick wall.

They could always laugh and joke through dinner, and then things seemed to fall to pieces after the meal was over. A night didn't seem to go by when they hadn't argued over one thing or another. Many times it had been about insignificant things that weren't worth a fight. But they would always duke it out, no matter what, neither admitting they were wrong.

Now, as Trunks thought about their arguments, he saw Pan more clearly. The way that sweet little mouth would spew curses at him, or how she'd drag a hand through all of that gorgeous hair and roll her eyes at him when she got thoroughly annoyed. Why hadn't he noticed those things before?

The way she'd have to stand on her tip-toes to shout in his face, the way she'd purr like a kitten under his caress. . .

Trunks groaned and leaned his forehead against the shower wall. He wanted her, desperately, and they were only two weeks into the agreement. He wanted her beneath him, moaning, gasping, and begging. . .or on top of him, pleasuring her body with his own, those sexy little hips straining as she fisted her hands in her hair and moaned his name.

Trunks opened his eyes with a gasp, realizing his right hand had automatically slid between his legs, trying to relieve the throb that pulsed there. He reluctantly pulled his hand away, cursing himself.

Pan wouldn't be pining for him like this, getting herself off to thoughts of what he'd do to her if they were together. She was probably still pissed off at him for suggesting this arrangement. Trunks would be lucky if she ever forgave him for this. Pan was known to hold a grudge, especially against her husband.

He could go back to her right now, apologize and have his way with her, but that would mean she won. Well, she wasn't going to win and she wasn't going to rub it in his face. This ache wouldn't last, and in a few weeks Pan would be the one begging for him to come home.

Turning the tap all the way to the right, Trunks shuddered as the icy blast of water rained down on him.

_. . .to be continued.  
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OK, so the last part was a little hotter than I had intended. I'm sorry, writing about Trunks in the shower just puts all these juicy images in my head. And, of course, he needs to suffer for what he did to Pan. I hope it tickled you fancy._

Carpe Diem and all that good shit. Keep it crunk.


	3. Week 4: I Want You

Rated M for mature subjects, language, and sexual situations.

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3. Week 4: I Want You**

His hands were all over her body, his lips were like fire against her own. She moaned, arching her body against his and drinking him in. Those poetic fingers began to tug at her pants and_--_

Pan's eyes shot open and she yelped in surprise, tumbling off the sofa to land with a loud crack on the hardwood floor of her living room. With a groan, she pushed herself to her elbows and squinted up an a very pregnant Marron Son.

The blonde was grinning, one hand absently caressing her enormous belly. You should lock your doors when you plan on having erotic dreams. . .Auntie Pan.

Pan sneered up at her friend as she pushed herself to her feet. The kid isn't going to call me _Auntie_, Marron. The blonde was biting her lower lip, obviously attempting to conceal her smile and failing miserably.

What do you want, Marron? Pan asked sharply, trudging her way towards the kitchen. Her back was screaming from it's unexpected visit with the floor, and she was struggling to control her embarrassment.

Goten and I saw Trunks today.

The teapot clattered noisily on the counter top as Pan's head snapped around to stare at her long-time friend turned family. Marron was still grinning, so Pan quickly recovered and feigned indifference with a shrug.

Marron gave a small snort. Give it up, would you? It's obvious you miss him. You're having wet dreams about him in the middle of the afternoon, for Christ's sake.It wasn't a _wet dream_, Pan snapped, slamming the tea pot down on the stove and switching it on. It was just a dream.About Trunks.No, it wasn't! Pan defended, turning away from Marron, who had lowered herself awkwardly into a chair at the kitchen table.

You're a terrible liar, Pan. You knew this wasn't going to stay a secret. Goten and I have been visiting Bulma regularly, as the baby's due soon, and Trunks has been haunting the place looking like he's been dragged through hell_--_multiple times_--_and acting just like Vegeta on a particularly nasty day. And you know how bad that is. Marron rolled her eyes and shrugged to herself, as Pan was stilling facing the opposite way.

Why don't you sit down and we'll talk about it, Pan. I've become a very good listener since the_--_I'm glad he's suffering! Pan burst out, whirling around, eyes blazing. Marron's mouth fell open and she could only stare. Because _I'm_ suffering every fucking night that he isn't here. I can barely fall asleep at night because I'm alone in this God damn house in that huge bed. And then I can barely get through the day at work because I'm so fucking tired and I can't stop thinking about that asshole I call a husband!

Marron simply blinked at her friend. Pan was flushed and breathing heavily. She swallowed hard and turned back to the stove as the teapot whistled. Marron watched, unsure of how to react. Pan's emotions never surfaced with this sort of magnitude.

Shit, Marron, Pan murmured, voice cracking as she took the teapot off the burner with shaking hands. She simply set it aside, not trusting herself to pour it. she said again, burying her face in her hands as she sat down across from her friend.

Marron wet her lips and spoke. This must be serious, Pan. I've never seen you like this, even when you both argued before.But he never left, Marron. Pan's voice and eyes were pleading as she dropped her hands onto the table and spoke to her friend. And damn me for missing him. I shouldn't miss him , I should hate him for doing this to me, to Us. Pan sat back in her chair, shaking her head. And I did hate him for doing it, I still do, but now I just miss him too much to think about hating him. She covered her face with her hands again. Christ, I don't even make any sense.I'm sorry, Pan. Marron reached over, with some difficultly, and grasped Pan's wrists, pulling them away from her face. The sheen of tears Marron saw in her friends eyes made her heart ache. He's an ass for doing this to you, Pan. He's suffering, you know that? She gripped Pan's hands with her own as the darker-haired girl sniffed loudly.

I don't believe it. She took a shaky breath.

I told you, he is. Goten and I have seen him. He looks as though he hasn't slept_--_or even bathed_--_in days. He's irritable, even with Vegeta. You know Trunks never gives his father lip. Vegeta was so stunned he forgot to kick his ass.

Marron was slightly relieved when Pan gave a watery chuckle. She had always cried on Pan's shoulder, it was never the other way around. Until now. But Pan's tears were definitely warranted under the circumstances. Love hurts even the strongest of women.

He'll come back with his tail between his legs, Pan, you watch. She gave her friend's hands a reassuring squeeze. Are you going to forgive him?

This time Pan sighed. The tears had vanished, but the sorrow remained. I don't know Marron. I agreed to it, after all. And I love him. It's ridiculous, but I love him. I just need to know that he loves me too. And he needs to tell me why he left. Because I still don't know the answer to that question Marron. I can't figure out why he needed this _break_, she sneered the word and Marron felt the Pan she knew was coming back.

If he loves you, Pan, he'll give you what you need. And I'm pretty sure he's crazy about you. She smiled, and Pan responded with a faint one of her own. Oh, baby's kicking!

Marron stole one hand back to lay over her engorged belly. She squeezed Pan's hand with the other as her friend smiled, dropping her gaze to Marron's belly as well.

She glanced up.

I need to tell you something.

_---_

She shouldn't have been doing this to him; filling his every thought at every moment of the day; invading his dreams to tempt him and cause him to wake in a heat, the moan rumbling in his throat.

With one last punch, Trunks dislodged the punching bag and sent it careening across the room and into the wall.

He stood where he was, legs spread, fists clenched, breath ragged, and sweat pouring off of his body. He was pissed, totally and utterly pissed.

This idea that he had thought was fool proof had backfired and bit him in the ass. Instead of getting his mind off of Pan and onto sorting out his dilemma, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Morning, noon, and night. It was more irritating than her being there in the flesh.

Well, don't expect me to spar with you then. I like my face the way it is.

Trunks spared a glance to his right. Goten Son was leaning against the doorjamb of the entrance, hands tucked neatly into his pockets and looking rather smug.

Trunks wanted to smash his face in. Instead, he merely grunted and trudged over to retrieve his battered punching bag. He snagged it with one hand and dragged it back to where it had originally been hanging.

Goten had sauntered over and was examining the massacred hook where the bag had once been. You know, if you had punched it just a _little_ harder you would have taken the whole damn thing out of the wall. He turned his smile on Trunks, who simply scowled and looked ready to pounce. He also had smudges under his eyes the color of fresh bruises. He obviously wasn't sleeping well.

You look like shit, man. Thinking about Pan that much, huh?

Goten knew it was coming before he sidestepped and the punching bag sailed past his head and slammed loudly into the wall. He continued to smile. Whose idea was it, anyway? Probably yours, right? He took a step forward, watching as Trunks's body shook with rage. Pan would just suggest that you two beat the shit out of each other. This has CEO written all over it.

Goten dodged the punch with ease and brought his own fist into Trunks's back. The older man stumbled, but didn't go down. You don't want to fight with me now, Trunks. You obviously haven't had a decent nights sleep in days, and by the smells of things you haven't bathed in as long either.

He caught the fist that swung back, put some more effort into the jab he placed in his friend's back, and sent the frustrated man to his knees.

Don't do this, Trunks, you're just embarrassing yourself. I haven't got time to put up with your shit. Marron just went to pick up a few things for the baby and I decided to stay here and find out what put that stick up your ass.

The kick was unexpected and took Goten's feet out from under him. He recovered as Trunks pounced and he stopped Trunks's punch with one of his own. Irritated beyond belief, Goten didn't hold back and his punch hit Trunks squarely in the nose.

Christ, Trunks! Goten yelled, scrambling to his feet. Quit acting like an ass and tell me what the hell your problem is!Pan's my problem! Trunks roared, swiping the back of his hand under his streaming nose, smearing blood.

They stared at each other for a moment, breathing heavily, before Goten held out his hand and dragged Trunks to his feet. Look, Trunks, I know you and Pan are fighting. Trunks just raised his eyebrows. Marron told me, you know she's never wrong about these things. And it fits, that's why you're dragging your ass around and acting more like a prick than usual. If you hurt her, man, I'll_--_

Trunks plowed his fist firmly into Goten's unsuspecting face. The younger man staggered, then turned, eyes blazing, back to Trunks.

What the hell was that for! He yelled, now wiping his own blood from his face.

For kicking me when I'm down, Trunks growled, and breezed past him.

What? When you're_--_What? Goten stuttered, turning to follow Trunks. I never kicked you, man, I only took advantage because I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that it looks like my best friend and my niece are going to get a divorce. You needed some sense knocked into you, Trunks. She fucking loves you, man, and I know you're hurting her.It's an expression, Goten, Trunks said, turning on his friend. You purposely pissed me off. And don't you think I know she loves me? Fuck, I love her too. It's her Goddamn childishness I can't put up with anymore! He threw his hands up and stomped away again.

She's my wife, for God's sake, Goten, she's suppose to act like it. He turned around again, but Goten hadn't moved from his spot. She's not supposed to party at all hours and leave her stuff lying around for me to pick up. I can barely have a conversation with her anymore because everything I say seems to offend her. She's stubborn, childish, and I love her!

Trunks rubbed his hands over his face, took a steadying breath. But at the same time I hate all the things I love about her, all the things that make Pan who she is. She's twenty-five now, Goten, not sixteen. Marron's only a few years older than Pan and your first baby is due any week now. Feeling exhaustion creeping up on him, Trunks sat down where he was.

I'm not getting any younger, Goten. I want children with Pan, but I just don't think she's ready. If she can't take care of herself, how's she suppose to care for a child? He covered his face with his hands and expelled a long breath.

Why aren't you talking to her, then, Trunks? Goten asked, his footsteps echoing as he approached his friend. Why are you here, beating yourself up over this, when you should be discussing it with Pan?Because we can't say two sentences to each other without starting a fight. Trunks looked up at Goten. And maybe that's my fault. Every time we argue I get angry, wishing we didn't have to go through this again and again, wishing that Pan would just grow up. And then, on the other hand, I love everything about her. All those things that piss me off now, were what I fell in love with. He shrugged. I don't even understand myself anymore.You know what, Trunks? Goten said as he sat down next to him. I think, for once, you've over-complicated things. I don't think you needed to get away, maybe you just need to find a way to talk about it.

Trunks looked at his friend for a moment. Maybe you're right, Goten, maybe I took it too far, exaggerated the situation because I was upset. I don't know. I've run things over and over in my head, but each one of them is more ridiculous than the other. We just can't seem to get along, Goten, and I don't know how to fix it.Well, I'm sure you'll think of something, Trunks, Goten said, getting to his feet. As for me, my therapeutic abilities are all used up. Can we get some ice, or something, my nose is killing me?

Trunks chuckled. Alright, Goten. He pushed himself to his feet as well. I think it's time Pan and I stepped back into the ring.

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_I seriously struggled with this ending, so don't be surprised if you come back some time and it's different. One more to go folks, and then it's over. At least, I think it's going to be. . ._

Much love to the readers and reviewers. I'm not going to leave you hanging this time.


	4. Week 6: I Need You

_A/N: I've just gotten a new laptop, a new PC laptop. I was running on an ancient iMAC before that, so if there's anything seriously wrong with this it's because I'm still anewbie when it comes to this whole PC thing._

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**Standard Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, the plot does.**

Rated M for Language and Mature Themes.

**4. Week 6: I Need You**

She gripped the edge of the sink, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The nausea had passed but her stomach still rolled with the aftermath of it. Her eyes slid open, glazed and unfocused as she stared at her pale reflection in the mirror.

Her hair was disheveled around her pale face, her skin clammy and her pupils dilated. All in all, Pan concluded, she looked like shit.

With one last shudder, she turned away from her reflection and exited the bathroom on rubbery legs. The gray light of dawn cast a ghoulish glow over the empty bedroom, and wrapping her arms around herself, Pan walked toward the closet and pulled out a robe. She bundled herself into the thick terry cloth and looked longingly toward the bed.

It was just past five a.m. and she wasn't going to fall back to sleep, she never could after being ill.

With a sigh she turned away from the bed and took a step toward the door. Her stomach jumped into her throat again when her gaze fell upon the figure in the doorway. She simply stared at him for a moment, fighting back the nausea that was turning in her stomach once again.

"You look ill," he said, and pushed himself off the doorjamb and entered the room. He stopped her heart, even in the pale light. The shadow of a beard and the gleam in his eye made him look dangerous, and his stance radiated authority. He was here for a fight, she could tell, and she wasn't in the mood for one. Her stomach was still reeling from his surprise appearance.

"I'm fine," she said, but it was weak and her voice cracked as she spoke. Pan looked away, embarrassed, and fumbled for her dignity. She swallowed hard and looked back at him. "I'm fine," she said again. This time her tone was firm, but her voice was still scratchy.

He took another step forward, studying her, and Pan had to fight the urge to retreat backward. "Have you been sick?" He asked, and surprised her by reaching out to cup her cheek. His hand was warm and she had to restrain herself from turning into him. He brushed a thumb over the dark circles under her eye and she pulled away, doing her best to glare at him.

"I'm fine," she repeated for the third time, and feeling she had no where to go, took a step back.

Trunks fisted his hand at his side, feeling the tug of pity in his gut. Her skin had been clammy, her eyes lacked the fire that always seemed to be smoldering there, and she looked drastically ill. He wanted to bundle her in to bed and hold her until she slept, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"I thought you were supposed to be gone for another two weeks," Pan said, her voice holding more bite then it had previously. She turned away from him and contented herself with staring out the window and into the murky dawn.

"I was," he said and stepped up to her, his body bumping her own. She slanted a glance at him, but he didn't smile as he saw annoyance flare in her eyes. "But I didn't think I needed it, that _we_ needed."

"Did you ever think that maybe _I_ needed it?" she asked. It was meant to insult, he knew and was glad she was showing some spunk.

"No, I don't think you needed it," he said evenly. "I think you missed me."

That did it. She turned on him, eyes spitting fire as she shoved her hands into his chest. It barely budged him, so she attacked with words.

"You arrogant bastard!" she growled, punching a fist into his chest with renewed strength. His brow furrowed but he didn't stop her. "I didn't fucking miss you, I was glad to get away from your conceited ass. It was great, not having to listen to you bitch about your work and how horrible I am at being your Goddamn wife!"

She was screaming at him, but he had stopped hearing her after the first insult. The thick robe was slipping off her right shoulder, exposing her sleek collarbone and a piece of her naked shoulder. That sweet little mouth was spewing curses like a sewer does sludge, and her hair was disheveled around her enraged face.

It was enough to make the violent need to take her erupt inside of him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her into the wall, covering her mouth his own.

She didn't fight him, like he had expected her to, but arched into his embrace, threading her fingers through his short hair and tugging roughly.

The kiss was rough and hot as they struggled to take everything and more. Hands groped, lips seared, and bodies grew hot.

"OK, so maybe I missed you a bit," Pan gasped out as Trunks pulled away, undoing the knot at her waist. He brushed the flimsy undershirt aside and spread his fingers over her skin. His mouth trailed along her jaw, down to her neck where he breathed her scent and pulled her more securely against him.

She moaned at the exotic feeling of his beard scraping over her skin. Her body arched, offered, and his mouth took. His lips trailed across the low cut of her shirt as his hands splayed over her back, trying to touch as much of her as possible. But it still wasn't enough.

Jerking the robe from her shoulders he let it fall where they were. Lifting Pan easily off of her feet, he staggered to the bed and fell onto it with her on top of him. Her mouth crashed down on his as her body heated beneath his touch. Her lips were possessive, starving as she struggled to taste him.

He sat up and pulled her shirt over her head, flung it aside, and filled his hands with her breasts. Her head fell back as the moaned poured over her lips. His head bent and he tasted her, relished in the way she writhed against him, dug her short nails into his hair in an effort to grasp some shred of control.

But it was futile. Her lips pressed against the crown of his head and she breathed against his hair: "More." And he gave it to her, flipping them over he tore away her underwear, found her already wet and ready for him. She came fast and hard against his hand, nails biting through his shirt at the shoulders.

"I need you," she breathed against his ear, her voice husky. It fed his desire, to know he could make her want him, make her need him. She rarely showed weakness, even to her husband. And it turned him on to know he could make a strong woman beg.

"I know," he whispered against her lips as she dragged his shirt over his head, tossed it aside. Her hands were at his hips next, fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. She yanked them down and he shifted to kick them away.

He moaned as her fingers closed around him, hot and tight. He struggled against collapsing into her as she pumped him. "I love you," she whispered against his ear and took him inside of her.

He rolled them over as she spasmed around him, accommodating to the invasion of his body into her own. He'd give her this, he thought hazily as she began to move, pleasuring her body with his own.. He'd give her control, let her set the pace and ride.

He rested his head against the pillow, spreading his hands onto her hips as they flexed in a rhythm that he would never grow tired of. He watched as she threaded her hands through her hair and let her head loll back as she moaned, low and sultry. He felt her pace quicken, pinned his eyes on her hips for a moment and watched her rise and fall upon him. The look of her was enough to have him choking back his orgasm.

He planted his gaze on her face; her mouth partly open and her eyes closed as the waves of pleasure cascaded over her features, flushed her cheeks in the pale light of the gray morning. Those cat-like eyes opened and met his gaze as he felt her body tense. Her eyes glazed over as a whimper of surrender passed her lips and she arched back, bringing her body down on his one final time.

He felt her orgasm coat him, fist around him, and he moaned as he felt himself empty inside of her.

_---_

He grasped her waist as she collapsed onto him with a groan of content. He smiled and breathed in the scent of her hair before running a hand through it. "Do you know how amazing you look when you ride me like that?" It was more of a statement then a question, but Pan shifted her lips to his ear.

"Mm. You just like looking at my tits," she responded playfully. He chuckled, shifting and wrapping an arm around her. She lifted her head and looked down at him through lidded eyes. "Does this mean we're OK now?" she asked, her voice no longer playful.

He drew a deep breath and studied her face for a moment. Those cat-eyes gleamed down at him, waiting for a response. Her cheeks were flushed from sex and her firm mouth was swollen and red from kissing. Beautiful wasn't the word, it was too feminine for his Pan. Sexy, was more appropriate. Their children would be beautiful.

Trunks wet his lips and sighed. "No, Pan, we're not OK."

He watched her eyes darken, her brow furrow, and her mouth turn down in a pout. It was a childish look he had seen countless times. It was what he had expected, of course. She had figured their problems had been resolved with the sex.

Before she could protest he rolled them over so that he was pressing her into the mattress. He saw the uncertainty in the line of her brows, the question stirring in her eyes. "I want children, Pan," he said flatly, deciding it was best to get to the point, give time her to hammer insults at him before he had to go to work.

He watched the shock register in her eyes, her mouth gaped. "I–How did you–"

"Let me finish for once, please," he cut her off, pressing her arms to her body with his own incase she decided she wanted to claw at him before he was done. "I'm not getting any younger, Pan. You accepted our age difference when you married me, and I want to start a family." He took a deep breath, preparing to drop the bomb. "But I'm not sure if you're ready for it. Things would need to change if we were to have a child."

He saw the shock diminish to anger in less than a second. "What _things_, exactly, are you talking about." There was a chill in her voice, nearly making him shiver.

"You know what I'm talking about, Pan," he shifted a bit, could feel the tension in her body. "The partying, the half-assed housekeeping, coming home at all hours, just your immature attitude toward the world in general. You're not living the life of a mother, Pan, you're barely living the life of a wife."

He let that settle, watched the anger smolder in her eyes, watched as she tried to control the twitch in her jaw. Then the world erupted.

She shoved him with all her might, and as it was unexpected, Trunks fell unceremoniously onto the floor. He had to blink several times before he could register what was happening.

"You bastard. You fucking son of a bitch!" She turned on him, robe in hand, with eyes hotter than Hell. "You have the nerve to insult me like that after you make love to me? You're an arrogant bastard Trunks Briefs, and if I'm such a fucking baby then we'll get a Goddamn divorce so you can marry come tight-assed housewife" With a final snarl she threw the robe around her shoulders and slammed into the bathroom.

Trunks simply gaped after her for a moment, unable to comprehend the unexpected reaction Pan had had to his confession. She was suppose to be offended, yes, but she wasn't suppose to be thinking about divorcing him. He had underestimated his wife once again and had firmly lodged his foot in his mouth. It was quiet, which was unusual as well, as Pan was more inclined to smash anything in sight when she was in a state such as this.

He pulled himself to his feet, snagged his pants and hitched them on, more concerned with extracting his foot from his mouth than buttoning them. He padded to the bathroom door and pressed his ear against it. Hearing nothing he tried the knob and found the door locked.

"Pan," he said firmly, but kept his tone gentle. She didn't respond, so he leaned back and threw his shoulder into the door. It opened and slammed against the wall of the bathroom with a crack. "We're not finished, Pan. Now tell me what made you think–"

The words froze on his tongue when he saw Pan leaning on the bathroom counter, face in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking and Trunks knew immediately that she was crying. Basic male instinct clouded his judgement for a moment and he found himself wanting to retreat. But he quickly pushed that urge aside when realization dawned on him. He had made his wife cry. He couldn't clearly remember the last time he saw Pan cry.

He stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Pan, what did I–"

He didn't even have time to dodge the hand that came up and cracked smartly across his cheek. He visibly winced as his head swung to the side with the force of the blow. But he had to recover, as she was shoving at him again. He had to take a step back to keep his balance, and his hands came up instinctively as she charged forward, her face streaked with tears, eyes hot.

"You fucking bastard! Do you really think I'm that selfish, that shallow!" It was the closest Trunks had ever heard his wife come to a scream. "What did you think I'd do, Trunks? Party like a horny teenager while I was pregnant? Drink myself stupid every night? Throw myself down the Goddamn stairs!" The tears were doing nothing to disguise the look of pure disgust on her face

She took several deep breaths, closing her eyes. "Do you really think that little of me, Trunks?" She opened her eyes again and the anger was gone, replaced by hurt. "You really think I'm that immature, that _stupid_?"

Trunks opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. His mind was still reeling from the emotional tidal wave his wife seemed to be riding. It was obvious in several seconds that Pan wasn't willing to wait for an answer. She brushed by him on an oath and Trunks was bolting after her a second later. He caught her arm as she reached the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Pan? You're riding an emotional roller coaster here and I can't keep up. Slow down for a–"

"What's wrong with me? I'll tell you what's wrong with me, Trunks Briefs!" She yelled jerking her arm from his grasp as she turned on him, eyes shining with fresh tears. "I'm pregnant with your fucking baby, you jackass! That's what's wrong with me," her voice cracked and her shoulders slumped in defeat as she finally told him. Marron had been wrong, he wasn't ecstatic, he didn't even think she'd make a good mother.

Overburdened and just plain tired, Pan slumped to the floor and buried her face in her hands once again. The tears came, and this time she sobbed aloud. She'd scrape up what was left of her dignity when Trunks left her alone with this baby she wanted so desperately.

But he was on his knees, his arms around her, before she could draw the first shuddering breath.

He had really done it this time. He had told his already pregnant wife that she wasn't ready for motherhood. No wonder she was raising Hell and damning his name. But she was pregnant with his baby, and it was hard to fight back the smile that was twitching at his lips. He was going to be a father. Now he just had to apologize until he was blue in the face, bow down and kiss her feet if necessary.

"I'm sorry, Pan," he whispered against her ear, smoothing her hair back. "I'm sorry. I was out of line. It's just. . .well, you know how you love to party."

"It's not a crime to like to have a good time, Trunks," she rubbed the back of her hand under her nose and sniffed hard. "I like partying, so what?. But did you actually think I was going to do it while I was pregnant.. Why do you think I've been sitting around here doing nothing for the past three months?" She scrubbed her hands over her face, her red-rimmed eyes..

Trunks's brow furrowed and he held her back an arm's length. "You knew you were pregnant before we did. . .this," he decided. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You mean before _you_ did this. I tried to tell you, Trunks, but you didn't give me a chance." She countered, annoyance creeping into her eyes.

"I didn't give you a chance a few minutes ago either, but you made one." It was spoken more dryly than he had intended, but it irritated him to know that Pan had known about the pregnancy and had still let him leave. "You should have told me."

"Oh, well pardon me for being a little upset that my husband was suggesting we take a damn _break_," she sneered, trying to shrug his hands from her shoulders.

Trunks bit back the retort that was simmering on his tongue. "We're not arguing about this." He took her hands and pulled her too her feet.

"This isn't my fault," she pouted. "You're the one who left."

Trunks sighed, running a hand over his face and through his hair. "We'll talk about this later, Pan. For now you're going to bed."

Pan allowed Trunks to steer her to the bed, tuck her under the covers, knowing this was far from over.

"Get some rest," he said quietly, "we'll talk when you're feeling up to it."

Without another word he closed the door.

Pan stared at the spot where her husband had been standing moments ago. Shifting, she lay on her back, switching her gaze to the ceiling. This was it, this baby was going to make or break them.

Passing a hand over her stomach she smiled to herself, closed her eyes, and slept.

**THE END**

* * *

_No, there will not be a sequel. I left it to your imagination folks, simple as that. I originally had a super cheesy ending that I deleted because it made me gag._ _I just can't stomach "happily ever after" anymore. Maybe because I'm too far steeped in reality._

_Anyway, I'll have something new for you guys soon. Keep an eye out for _Coffee & Cigarettes_, my new T/P. Much love to all those who reviewed._


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